


The Art of Sharing

by makingitwork



Series: Who Can Take the Sunshine [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Fae Stiles Stilinski, Fairy Stiles, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt Stiles, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Overprotective Derek, Possessive Derek, Protective Derek, Protective Stiles, Single Parent Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 08:15:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14052747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: Derek and Stiles argue over how to raise Derek's daughter.Or:Stiles thinks skipping school is beneficial and Derek is...not so sure.





	The Art of Sharing

**Author's Note:**

> OH MY GOSH GUYS 
> 
> I LOVE YOU SOOOOOOO MUCH
> 
> HOPE YOU ENJOY!

Summer has been scorching.

The hottest that Beacon Hills has seen in a long time, and the town spends most of the days lying around, too hot to move. 

On the hottest days; houses and shops have their doors and windows propped open, air conditioning on at full blast, and all the cars that can; have their tops down. Anyone that walks down the scorching sidewalk, walks in the shade, in shorts and loose fitting tops. The children that play in the open fields, roll around in the dew-sodden grass, tanning under the cloudless sky. All the coffee shops are advertising iced-cappuccino shots that are selling like wildfire and even the lazing cats perched atop wall ledges, hop into the cool shadow of the tree branches. 

Derek blinks against the warm glow of the sun as he steps out of the gym, bringing an arm up to shield his eyes. Stiles has really been going to town, and today is no exception. Derek can feel the sweat dripping down his back, and when he reaches a hand into his pocket to answer his ringing phone, the metal is warm to the touch. 

" _Hello, Mr Hale?"_ comes a crisp, feminine voice. 

"Yeah?" He replies, frowning at the unrecognised number and voice. 

" _It's Jeanie from the school's reception. I'm just calling to remind you about the meeting tomorrow? 2pm? For your daughter...Isabella Hale, is that correct?"_

"Yes, of course," He says quickly. He's a little surprised they're calling his mobile, but figures they probably tried the house phone first. He'd nearly forgotten about the meeting, it had been scheduled so many weeks ago before the summer had rolled around. He wonders why it's happening now, but then remembers something else about Isabella's head of year being gone for the first few weeks of summer. "I'll be there. Do you know what it's about?"

There's a moment of silence, where Derek can hear the faint sound of nails on keys.  _"I'm afraid I don't have that on file. Would you like me to send an email to the teacher?"_

"No, don't worry," he assures her "I'll find out tomorrow." 

And he doesn't really think anymore of it. He swaps shifts to be free for the meeting, and spends the rest of the day lazing around his empty house. Stiles and Isabella are with the Sheriff, because Izzy had demanded a chance to ride in a police cruiser and Stiles never resisted the opportunity to take his dad out for a healthy lunch when they had a spare moment. Derek loves them both, but he likes the silence of the house. 

Stiles has been a wonderful disaster in his life for ten months, and Isabella for six years, and he doesn't ever want to live without them. But...there is something to be said for the silence of the house, for the comfort of being able to sink into the couch cushions and know that his daughter and boyfriend are safe and having fun. Where he can watch all the cheesy soap operas he wants without Stiles' teasing or Isabella demanding they change it back to the kids channel.  

And when Stiles calls a little bit later, and asks if Isabella can crash over at his place, Derek finds himself agreeing even before he hears Izzy's hollers of  _Yay! Sleepover at Grandpas!_

 

Derek doesn't consider himself an angry person. 

Grumpy? Yes. Moody? Yes. Shy? Definitely. But he doesn't like to think that he'd start screaming at a stranger for taking his parking spot the way he's seen his sister do. But- when it comes to family, he's not afraid to admit that yes, okay, he is a little quick to anger. But that's only because he knows how important family is. His parents had died when he was  18 and Laura and him had navigated adulthood without them and he misses them. He knows some people have had it worse, lost their parents way younger, but Derek still feels. 

And then Jennifer- the stone cold shock and pain that had pumped through his system when he'd come home to see her packing her bags. 

But he doesn't want to be that person. 

He doesn't want to be who he was at eighteen. So quick to anger, so unwilling to listen. Ignoring strangers and death-glaring everyone, even Laura. 

Which is why, when the punch in the gut comes the next day at around 2pm, Derek tries not to freak out. 

He's just headed into the school. He's dressed into something a little more respectable than his gym outfit, and he can feel his skin prickling from the glare of the sun. It's around ten to two pm, and he stepped into the refreshing cool of the school foyer, when he spots Stiles and Izzy. The last he's seen of them was Stiles' text message that morning which had been a picture consisting of the Sheriff and Izzy covered in waffle batter. 

"Daddy!" Izzy beams. She's in her sleep-rumpled clothes from yesterday, and her hair looks a little matted, but she smells content. Derek pauses, baffled, and cups her cheek fondly. 

"Hey, Sweetheart," He looks up at Stiles, who's hair is spiked in a thousand directions and whose plaid shirt is clinging to his body appetisingly in some places with sweat. "Stiles," he reaches over to kiss his boyfriend's cheek "what are you guys doing here?"

"Uh, there was a meeting," Stiles says, and he looks a little uncomfortable, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the corridor. "Bells asked me to come, I thought you knew? The teacher phoned the house yesterday-"

"I got a call from reception," Derek says, and yes, he's definitely feeling something now. Something cold in his blood. He looks down at Izzy. "You asked Stiles to go with you instead of me?" He questions, and she looks bashful. He can feel it, the coldness, like he's losing something, something he'll never be able to get back. He tries his best to squash it down. "What was it about?"

"Nothing!" They answer in suspicious unison. 

He peers at them, scrutinising both of their faces, before Stiles sighs. 

"Look, Derek," he murmurs, raising both his hands in a placating manner, and Isabella shakes her head frantically, trying to get Stiles to stop. "Don't freak out, okay?"

"I make no promises."

"Well, Mrs Henderson was just a little concerned- not  _concerned,_ just curious as to why..." he trails off, eyes wide and searching, looking for anything that can distract them, but Derek remains focused. Stiles takes a breath, and says in a rush: "...as to why Bells didn't do her reading proficiency test to qualify for the under ten's spelling bee."

Isabella slaps her hands to her face helplessly and Derek frowns harder. "But she did do it. You dropped her to school after we spent all weekend helping her practise." He looks down at his daughter, who stares up at him with a sweet, round face. 

"Well, you see, Daddy..." She turns to Stiles, smiling impishly "bagsie not it! You have to tell him!"

Stiles gapes, betrayal written all over his features, but he schools it quickly when he sees Derek's serious expression. He runs his nimble, distracting fingers through his hair and lets out another breath through his nose. "I didn't actually take her to school that day. We went to Ojai, Derek- but before you freak, hear me out!" He raises his voice, waving his hands abstractly "I swear, I just completely forgot about the spelling bee, but it's such a wonderful place! She learnt so much more there than she could have in school. You'll never find a vibe like it and it's so untouched by consumerism; I took her to see all these authentic shops and we meant some people who believed in chakras-"

"-I wanna live there, Daddy! It was so different! And we got our palms read! I'm gonna marry a man who likes dough!" Izzy interjects delightedly, and Stiles bobs a nod

"We don't know if that means money or flour, but I guess we'll figure it out when she get's married."

Derek realises they're both waiting for his assessment as silence settles over them for a while. He can feel the anger bubbling, but he's so aware of it. So self-conscious of his feelings that he tries to bottle them. Stiles smells so anxious and is actually wringing his hands, and Isabella smells of contentment but she's staring up at Derek as if she's expecting him to crack. 

Derek is  _not_ going to crack. 

"It's okay," he says, voice wobbling and a little quiet. "No harm, no foul."

The plaid-wearing fairy looks surprised by this assessment, but takes it eagerly, grasping Derek's hand and leading them out of the building. Isabella skips ahead of them, and Derek tries to steady his breathing. 

It doesn't help that as they walk past the classroom's open windows, he can hear a teaching assistant talking to a janitor. He can hear her voice  _Her father must not give a damn if he's leaving his kid with some teenager._ He squeezes his claws into his fists and tries to bottle it up. He is not going to crack. So what, Stiles looks a little young because of his weird fae genes, he's an adult. And Derek is a good father, he is. He knows he is. 

He swallows it down, and chants it like a mantra in his head. He is not going to be that guy. He isn't. 

It's exactly what Jennifer would expect. Him to lash out and get angry, and he  _is_ annoyed, because they worked hard on that spelling bee and Stiles hadn't even talked to him about it and apparently wasn't ever going to if Derek hadn't been there today- and since when does his daughter start keeping secrets from him-

But no. 

No. 

He won't crack. 

 

Summer continues just the same for a few days, and Derek manages to keep a pretty good handle on it. 

It's a Friday, and Stiles has given the town a break from the relentless heat. It's still warm and sunny out, but it's bearable now. There are a few clouds strolling leisurely past the sky, and Derek sits just inside by the open front door, planning some personalised cardio workouts for new members. He can Stiles muttering sternly to the wasps about getting too close to the bees' territory, and he can hear Izzy jumping and catching a hoard of purple butterflies through the garden. They've all been attracted by Stiles' new flowers, and his garden looks like something out of a movie. 

It's calm, and so serene, that he's almost lapsed into a light doze, when he hears a  _crack._ And then he smells it. 

Blood. 

Isabella's cry of pain follows immediately after.

Derek doesn't even think, he's running outside, and he spots his daughter immediately. Her little head is poking up from where she's slipped down the slope of soil just under the fringe of the forest's foliage. She's gripping her arm in pain, and Derek can smell the sour scent of her tears in the air, so pungent it might as well be directly under his nose. As he's racing to her, he can see the plants that she tripped on, all twisted and out of shape. 

They're the pumpkin vines Stiles has been growing. 

"Isabella!" He cries, falling to his knees beside her and grabbing her free hand. He brushes the hair from her face, and there's some mud along her cheek. The skin is slightly reddened from the fall. "Baby, are you okay?" His thoughts are everywhere and he's not sure what to do. This has never happened- this has never happened, he's never smelt her pain or her blood. Derek's been protective of her- she's his everything, she's not so much as banged her head since she was born- and he can't think straight- he feels scattered and he can smell her tears and her tiny breaths hiccuping and he is the worst parent in the world, and the self-loathing is setting in when-

Stiles swoops in. 

Graceful and lithe in a way he never is usually; leaping over the mound and crouching on Isabella's other side. The sun is fracturing through the leaves and into squares across his face. "Bells, beautiful, are you okay? Talk to me."

She snuffles, nodding. She smells hurt and embarrassed. "'m fine."

"Yeah? 'Course you are. Big, brave girl like you." He bops her nose, and turns to Derek. "Drain her pain." He orders, and Derek wants to thump himself. He hadn't even thought- he'd been so scared. He starts draining immediately, and her relief is a saviour and coolant to his nose. He watches as the black lines crawl up his arm and winces, the pain is sharp and stinging, and she's so small-

Stiles' heart is strong, and steady. Unlike Derek's racing one. He's firm, and in control.

"Lemmie see, sweet thang," he's whispering, prying Izzy's hand away from her broken arm. Derek watches as he examines it with trained eyes. He turns it a little, prodding it and pressing in different areas. Derek watches, eyes fierce and waiting for Stiles to do something that makes his daughter howl with pain, but it never comes. Stiles just frowns, and nods. "Okay, okay, sweetheart, that's a break, and I have to- it has to be re-broken for you to heal, alright?" He looks into her eyes, and she nods. He beams at her "brave girl," he murmurs, darting forward to kiss her forehead and Derek hates how calm he is. "Okay, Derek, do you want to do it, or should I?"

Derek doesn't think he can bear doing that to his daughter. 

Stiles must see it on his face, because he nods. "Okay, keep draining." He takes Isabella's arm assuredly. "Look at me," he tells her, and she does, eyes wide and trusting. "This is going to hurt, but I know you can do it. Look at me, I want you to tell me the names of your five favourite barbies and why. Don't stop, can you do that for me?"

She shakily begins reciting them. "Melanie, Laura after my auntie, Cassidy-" Stiles snaps the bone back into place and Derek's biting back his fangs, but Isabella's breath just hitches and she continues "Dakota, and Ariel after the little mermaid." She starts healing almost immediately, and she even manages a little smile up at him. Stiles pecks at the corner of her mouth fondly. "Thanks," she whispers, leaning into Derek's chest. 

"Brave girl," he nods "much better than me when I broke my first bone. That was a travesty. Your Grandpa nearly fainted." He chuckles, and Derek can't hold it back anymore. 

He can't. The lid's off the bottle and he's so  _angry._ Angry that Stiles is so calm and knew what to do, angry that Derek is the dad and he's not the one who saved the day. The one who went to the meeting. 

"You're laughing about this?" He growls, and both of them look at him; wide eyed. "You think this is funny?"

"What?" Stiles laughs, bewildered "No, I-"

"It's not funny, Stiles. It's dangerous. Your stupid plants made her trip, and she got hurt. Do you know how dangerous this could have been? How badly she could have been hurt? How badly she was hurt? Do you think about anyone other than yourself?" 

The fairy sparks a little with anger. "Hey," he warns "I grew up with a best friend who was a werewolf, Derek, and let me tell you, I've seen a lot worse than broken bones. Your daughter can  _heal._ Look at her, she's okay. I would never laugh if I thought anything serious has happened-"

"This isn't serious to you?" He challenges, face reddening as he gets angry. All he can feel is his daughter pressed against him, and the smell of her dried blood on the dry soil, and he can hear her yelp over and over in his mind. 

Stiles is still crouching on his toes; knees bent, but he's leaning further away. Slightly guarded. "You need to relax, Derek-"

"You wouldn't understand." He spits furiously, fangs dropping and eyes glowing as he half shifts, so his next words come out more as a growl than human language; "you don't have kids or the responsibility that comes with it. Making her miss school like that? Do you listen to anything that goes on in her life? Do you know what the other parents probably think about me? What the school workers are saying? No, you don't. Because you don't think. You don't care enough. You can't understand because s _he's not your daughter_!"

It hangs in the air. 

Stiles' hurt makes a sour scent, and Isabella whimpers a little at its smell. 

Derek ignores it. 

"I love her." He hisses, and Derek realises with a pang that Stiles' eyes are wet with tears. He tries not to look. "I love  _your daughter._ And I would never do anything if I thought it would hurt her, or you, no matter how big or how small. If you had such a problem with her missing school, you should have said something earlier. Why do you have to bottle everything up?"

The werewolf can't speak. He won't speak. He won't look at Stiles. Only his daughter, who is frantically flittering her eyes between them. 

Stiles waits, and when Derek offers no response, rises to his knees and leaves. 

He leaves a trail of stinging nettles in his wake, and Derek doesn't move until he hears the roaring whirr of the Jeep's engine. He then scoops Isabella into his arms, and carries her inside. She stays quiet, arm completely healed now. And when Derek lays her on the couch and promises her, her favourite dinner, she only nods half-heartedly. 

 

It makes for a...well, a pretty shitty night, to be honest. 

Derek can't really sleep, and he stares at his phone wondering if Stiles will call. Wondering if he should call. Every time he picks up the phone, he sets it back down. And then he just gives up and sets about to pacing downstairs. 

But all he can smell is the sweet and gentle scent of the rosebush that Stiles had grown just outside by the front porch. 

With every pace, with every frustrated growl, it's smell just becomes stronger and stronger and Derek just can't. He marches outside, and half-shifted rips the bush out with a mournful howl. 

He collapses onto the porch steps afterwards, empty and exhausted. His emotions completely drained. He feels useless and angry but only at himself. Brilliant. Has he done it then? Has he finally driven Stiles away? Is this just who he is now? Someone too twisted and repressed to realise when someone only has good intentions. Too harsh on himself that he won't express his emotions when they're small and manageable, rather than large and explosive?

He falls asleep there, head angled up towards the stars and he's woken up by the burning sun and Izzy looking down at him. 

Derek expects her to be angry with him, but she just smiles softly and rubs the stubble on his cheek with her tiny palm. "Silly, daddy." She says and kisses his nose "can we have Lucky Charms?" 

That's the thing about family, Derek thinks, as they head inside and he wipes the dew from his skin, they forgive you pretty easily. 

He hopes Stiles will be the same. 

It's hard not to think about him, especially with the dew on his shirt, and the fact that the Lucky Charms consists of only Lucky Charms because Stiles rifled through the box and plucked out anything that wasn't a delicious nugget of coloured sugar. But he manages to get through most of the morning, and after he's given Izzy her bath, he even manages to crack a smile, because she's completely scar free and she splashes him with bubbles. He leaves her upstairs playing as he starts to make lunch, and he hears Stiles' jeep. 

His heart leaps into his throat, and he pushes away from the stove and fumbles with the door, only to come to a reeling halt. 

Stiles is kneeling by the decaying remains of the rosebush. He's hunched over, looking small and fragile and smelling overwhelmingly of  _grief._ He's thumbing the leaves and Derek feels like an awful person of massive proportions. He remembers Stiles saying how much he hated it when people killed large plants, and he knows that Stiles had grown that rosebush for Derek as a token of love, and he knows how Stiles is going to take it-

"Stiles-" he rushes to explain, but suddenly there's the sound of thunder, and there's a raincloud over Derek's head. Miniature and violent, pouring rain down his face and sparking around his ears. It drips down into his eyes, and he splutters as the cold droplets wet his clothes. 

"I only came to see how Isabella's doing, but I take it she's fine." Stiles says, voice hard. 

"She is, Stiles-" he splutters, but Stiles is marching to his Jeep, wings appears once or twice to make his steps a bit longer and higher, but he's gone before Derek can really do anything about it. 

Right, okay. He has to fix this. 

He has to stay outside for the rest of the day too, as the raincloud is relentless and the pouring is driving the werewolf a little bit insane. Izzy had laughed and petted the cloud, which had warmed at her touch.

Derek decides to call Laura, and after hearing her laugh for five minutes, feels better as she falls silent and listens. " _Little brother_ ," she begins, and Derek can hear her rifling through a cupboard and realises she's probably snacking on junk food. _"Let me offer you some advice. Get your head out of your ass. Izzy's fine, and you should've told Stiles how you felt when you felt it, instead of bottling it up like you always do. I thought I told you not to mess this up?"_

"That makes me feel better." Derek responds dryly. Or not dryly, because he's banished to the edge of the Preserve and his mini-rain cloud is relentless. 

 _"Derek,"_ Laura's voice is softer now  _"I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but I worry you won't know it yet. He isn't gonna stop loving you after one fight. You know that, right?"_

Derek's silent for a moment, before clearing his throat "you don't know what I did-"

" _I don't have to know. I saw that boy and he loves you. So, get your head out of your ass and fix it. What are you gonna do?"_

He sighs. "Get my head out of my ass and fix it."

_"Atta boy. Love you lil bro, you lemmie know how it goes."_

It's annoying and totally Laura but it makes him feel better. 

Except he doesn't really know how to make it better. He doesn't think Stiles is going to be around in a hurry, so as he disperses the remains of the rosebush in the forest so they can get taken up by the soil, he devises a plan to go and visit the Stiles at home. Luckily, the raincloud has disappeared, and he ends up having to organise a playdate for Izzy with the daughter of a woman from his gym, and by the look his daughter gives him, she is not at all impressed. 

He kisses her temple, and she shoos him away with a sigh that means  _you're insufferable, daddy._

But Stiles isn't home. 

The Sheriff, as it turns out, is just as good as his sister at giving advice. "I was wondering when you'd be around," John tells him, not unkindly, ushering Derek in. Derek tries to be respectful, offering his apologises but John waves him off, eyes warm and sincere as he hands Derek a beer. "Don't apologise, my son is...well hell, he pushes all our buttons at times." Derek tries to smile, but he just feels miserable. "Listen, Derek, the thing about Stiles is that he can be very impulsive. And you're right that he needs to be told when something matters, even if they seem mundane. Bells' spelling bee, that wasn't his call to make, and sometimes he needs someone to tell him- or smack him upside the head- and remind him that the world doesn't revolve around his adventures."

Derek feels the cold in his blood start to thaw. "Yeah," he says, choked "exactly, I-I want her to have fun, but-"

"But she still needs to have a normal childhood." The Sheriff agrees, and Derek feels so wholly accepted and normal that he's hanging to the Sheriff's every word. "At the same time though, children do get hurt. They fall and they trip, Stiles more than most, let me tell you. And it is scary the first few times, but it's normal. And the best thing for you? Your daughter has the ability to heal. There's nothing worse than seeing your kid on crutches the first time, but around the seventh time, I began tripping him up a little." The Sheriff chuckles, clearly reminiscing. "I know you wanna protect 'em, Derek, but you can't coddle them forever. They'll find a way to sneak out through the window and go to that party, or that date- or that one time where they sneak out to actually mess with a federal investigation." He shudders, and Derek snorts at Stiles' childhood. "They do have to hurt a little, and that sucks damn hard, but it's a part of life. Ya understand, son?"

He nods, gratefully, because he does. He remembers all the stupid stunts he and Laura used to do, like riding their bikes over the huge ramps that their mom had banned them from. He remembers whacking his head and seeing stars, and how Laura had forced him to hide it by shoving a hat onto him. He remembers how his mother had grounded Laura for a week, and Derek for two, but that they'd snuck right back the next day. 

"I think he's planning to come over to see Bells this evening," The Sheriff says, patting Derek's shoulder. "Get it through his thick skull that you love him, alright?"

Derek laughs. "I will, Sir." He nods, feeling lighter.

 

He collects Izzy from her playdate, and she practically sprints to the car. Derek tries not to tease her about it too much, because she still looks mildly horrified at the fact that Amy's daughter collected  _Bratz_ instead of Barbies. 

When they get home, Stiles' Jeep is there, and he's sitting on the steps of the porch exactly where Derek was two nights ago. 

"I see my raincloud faded." Stiles reports, framed by evening light. He looks tired, and Derek realises with a pang that he left his favourite pillow here. "Just came to see Bells," he peers around Derek and sees her, holding out his arms. She runs to him, hugging him tightly and proceeding to talk about Amy's daughter with an alarming degree of hostility. Stiles laughs, sharing in her wicked delight, and taking her into the house. She's perched on his hip like she belongs there, chattering animatedly, and Derek takes a few moments before following them in. 

Stiles heads upstairs immediately, and Derek figures that he isn't welcome, so he sets about making hot chocolate. 

Upstairs, Isabella pushes her fingers into Stiles' cheek bones and cocks her head. "You're being dumb." She declares, and Stiles flounders a little. 

"I'm not dumb!"

"I know." She nods emphatically, as if sympathising with his plight. "You're very smart, which is why you're even dumber for being dumb." She tucks a lock of long brown hair behind her ear, and Stiles conjures her a flower absentmindedly which she tucks there. "Don't make my daddy sad, Stiles. Go downstairs and kiss him." She's got a firm, no-nonsense tone in her voice, and the fairy raises his eyebrows; impressed. 

"Your Auntie Laura teach you how to do that?"

"Make with the kisses!" She squeals, pushing him out of her room, and he smiles, skipping down the stairs. 

Derek looks up, and nudges a cup of hot chocolate towards him wordlessly. 

The fairy twists his lips into a small half uptick, darting forward and wrapping his arms around Derek. The werewolf stands, stumped for a moment, before hugging back tightly. Clutching Stiles' body against his own and feeling whole again. "I'm sorry," Stiles murmurs into his chest. "I'm really sorry." His voice is earnest and sincere, heart beat thumping with endless truth. 

"No." Derek says fiercely, shaking his head. "I am. Fuck, I am."

Stiles pulls away, but not too far away, as he looks up at Derek with wide, amber eyes. "I just...I just want her to have a childhood so bad, but I also want you to trust me with her. It's just, Scott and I, we skipped a whole bunch of days growing up, and when I look back, those are the days I remember. Not the endless lessons, you know? I just want her to be happy, but not if it makes you unhappy and you are the opposite of a bad father-"

"I get it, Stiles," he says, pressing their foreheads together. "I know you want her happy, and I do trust you with her. Maybe...maybe your spontaneous trips should be limited to once or twice a semester though. When she has nothing important on." He manages a little smile that shows some teeth and Stiles blushes. 

He nods eagerly "and about her arm-"

"-it was an accident." Derek finishes firmly "it could have happened anywhere, and it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you what bothered me as it happened, I just-"

"Like to repress?" Stiles grinned, placing a chaste kiss to Derek's lips. His voice is soft and warm. "I know. I'm sorry I tried to hide it from you. I should never have done that." He pulls away, taking a quick sip of hot chocolate. "We're a couple of idiots, aren't we?" He says fondly, and Derek laughs. But inwardly, he's pleased. Pleased that they've managed to figure this out so...so...adult-like. Which sounds absurd because there were rainclouds and plant attacks involved, but it has been. They're talking, and it's so easy. So easy compared to the weeks of resentment that would build up between him and Jennifer. Stiles takes Derek's hand quickly after, tugging him towards the front door. "Now come on," he teases "we're re-growing a rosebush." 

Derek doesn't think being in love has ever been so  _easy._

 

It's about five months later, the incident long behind them, when Parrish drops Isabella's home and she comes into the house talking a mile a minute. Her hair dotted with flowers, her uniform covered in mud.

So far, so normal. 

Until she says that: "This boy Brandon in my class called me a spazz." She starts rifling through her blue book-bag for her colouring book "I don't think I like him."

Derek snorts, but Stiles' head has snapped up from the case file he was reviewing on the sofa. His eyes hard, and browns furrowed.

"What's his full name?" He asks sternly, and Derek frowns at the tone. 

"Uh...Brandon...Brandon Murphy!" She beams triumphantly, unaware to Stiles' focused eyes. "I remember cuz it says so on his class badge." She proceeds to kiss Derek's cheek, and then Stiles', before she's scampering upstairs to get changed. 

Derek watches as Stiles types into his laptop hurriedly. "Stiles?" He frowns "are you alright-"

"I'll be back later." Stiles says, waving him off and running out of the house. "Parrish!" He yells, chasing the police cruiser now at the bottom of the entrance to the preserve "Wait up!"

Derek stands; stumped. But ignores it, chalking it up to another one of Stiles' quirks and setting about making dinner.

When Stiles still isn't back by the time that he and Izzy have eaten all their vegetables ("Because you need to eat vegetables to get big and strong, that's why"), Derek sets asides a plate for him, and takes Izzy to bed. He figures maybe there was a breakthrough with the case he was working. Stiles has been known to get a little ahead of himself when he's in the zone.

The house is dark and quiet as he lies in bed. He can hear Isabella sleeping soundly, the soft rise and fall of her chest, when he hears the quiet footsteps of Stiles downstairs. It makes him laugh quietly into the blankets, as he hears Stiles' attempts to be stealthy. He trips on the bottom step, and stumbles against the bannister cursing softly. But he doesn't come into their bedroom as Derek expects, instead, he heads into Isabella's room. 

Derek pricks his ears, listening carefully. 

"Bells, sweetheart, are you awake?" Stiles whispers, and there's some rustling as Isabella's heart rate picks up. 

"Yes," she mumbles, sleepily. 

"Sorry, I know you were asleep," he whispers, "I was just wondering if you were okay? After what Brandon said?"

She makes a small sound of confusion. "Huh?" She manages intelligibly. 

"It's just...as long as you know who you are and what you're all about then it's okay. If you don't, then sometimes, those words can really hurt. When I was growing up, I was called spazz a lot, and it used to really hurt my feelings, until I decided that I was okay being that guy. I just...I want you to know it's okay if it hurts, because it's a learning curve. You being a wolf means any physical injuries won't really be a huge deal, but it also means you might be a little more vulnerable to mean names. I just..." he sighs, and laughs a little "it's okay if it hurts, you don't have to put up a brave front. Sometimes, you have to own the pain, so it doesn't rule you. Ignoring it...it doesn't help."

Derek's heart pangs, and he can imagine the sorts of people who would call Stiles names. They're people who don't recognise brilliance and flair. Derek wants to hurt them.

"Words can be a weapon, but they don't have to be, Bells. If you know who you are, and you love who you are, you'll always be okay. And you should love who you are, because you're amazing and I love you, and your daddy loves you, and your auntie and Grandpa and so many others."

Derek hears Isabella yawn, and the sound of her petting Stiles' hair. "I told Brandon that I was the best spazz he'd ever meet, cuz I thought that's what you would say." She says truthfully.

Derek hears Stiles' heart skip a beat, and can almost feel the warmth of his blush. "Well...alright then. You've got it all figured out, smartie pants. Good night, sweetheart," he murmurs, and there's the sound of covers and blankets rustling as he tucks her back in. 

"Night Pa," she murmurs back, heart rate slowing. 

Stiles hammers loudly in his chest, and Derek can smell his emotions radiating through the house, and they're overwhelmingly love and protection. Stiles stands in her room for a moment, and Derek can imagine that he's watching his- their, daughter, just as besotted as Derek himself.

Derek tries to hide his smile into the pillow, pretends to be asleep when Stiles tiptoes into the room, so that his boyfriend can have this moment all to himself. Stiles creeps into bed, and cuddles up to Derek, smoothing a finger over Derek's eyebrows. "She won't have to worry about Brandon anymore." He whispers smugly, kissing Derek's supposedly sleeping nose, and Derek feels a rush of pure warmth. 

Stiles is an over-protective bastard too. 

He knows then, that they'll both take care of Isabella, in their own ways. Hopefully they'll balance each other out, though. One of them freedom when the other is rigid, and swapping when necessary. Derek thinks they'll make a pretty good team.

He wraps his arms around Stiles, and his boyfriend nestles into his chest. He can smell the magic, the vegetables downstairs, Isabella's contentment and the sweet, blossoming roses from the bush by the front porch, in the heat of the summer night.

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, guys, guys 
> 
> Readers, you are my entire life and I love you. I sacrificed a lot of work to do this for you, and I would do it always!!!
> 
> Your comments are actual life. Your comments make me so happy I could cry so I want you to know, like i always let you know, that I LOVE YOU. 
> 
> You answered my fight question so brilliantly, and so many of you have the same brilliant mind and I tried to incorporate as many different elements as I could, but it was so easy because you got me so inspired. 
> 
> Also someone commented a prompt with Derek inviting Scott over as a surprise for Stiles, which I absolutely love, because cue cute Uncle Scott and Derek's begrudgingly happy that Izzy has an Uncle that isn't creepy Peter. So I love that, and will definitely endeavour to do so. 
> 
> Pretty sure the next one will be either the pregnancy or at least a future fic where you meet the twins!
> 
>  
> 
> As always, prompt/comment/tell me your deepest secrets, I wanna hear it all. I don't mind if you don't think its relevant, because it's all inspiring wonderful stuff! 
> 
> You guys seriously, genuinely 100% rock, okay? Don't let anyone tell you otherwise! 
> 
> MWAAAHHHH MWAAHHH MWAAHHH 
> 
> Oops, heheh, sorry *wipes lipstick off your face* there ya go pretty bee 
> 
> xxx


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